Imperium
by Forever Jake
Summary: The Rebel Yell has sounded, and the Confederacy on Tarsonis is no more. Humanity has a new leader in Emperor Arcturus Mengsk I, but his reign will not be unchallenged...
1. One

**Imperium** by Forever Jake

_Chapter One_

--

The battlecruiser thundered through the skies of Korhal like some great, dead star, at last crashing to earth after so many aeons of service to the thankless heavens. It was a monster, a dying god shaking the world with its roars as a terrified populace turned its heads upwards in awe and disbelief.

To anyone else, familiar as they should be with the easily-recognized form of the ship, it would have been mundane, unimpressive, even with its massive size and firepower – it would have been noteworthy, but far from epic or even truly important. To Arcturus Mengsk, however, it was nothing short of poetry.

He could not see it with his own eyes, of course, seat-belted as he was into a helmsman's chair on the bridge of the ship itself, but the video relay from a rear camera on the tiny shuttle proceeding just before the titanic vessel gave him a nonetheless breathtaking view.

There were thirteen ships in all, and each had been equipped with digital video monitors and camera feeds – he had wanted to be sure to capture the landing from as many angles as possible, to cut down on the need for reenactments when it came time to piece together the inevitable propaganda films. Such devices, though offensive in concept, were undeniably effective – the way to rule people, after all, was to make them want to be ruled. The people of Korhal, of course, would be used to being ruled after so many years beneath the iron heel of the Confederacy...

Ah yes, the Confederacy. Since the end of the Guild Wars, it had laid claim to the whole sector, save Umoja and Moria – over a dozen large planets in all, and a myriad of easily colonized moons. Tarsonis, the largest world in the sector, had been the seat of Confederate power; now Tarsonis was in ruins and the Confederacy all but devoured by the waves of rampaging aliens. Mengsk smiled at the thought. It had all been so easy, too.

Once, Mengsk had been certain that his purpose in life was to relieve the exhausted peoples of the Confederacy from the oppressive rule of their government. His crusade, potent and surreal, had been incensed from the beginning. Mengsk's parents had been murdered by the Confederacy's political minds, and this world – his homeworld – peppered with nuclear detonations. In bitter hatred had he begun, and rallied many to his cause; after all, he was far from unique in having had his life destroyed by the fascist government. Many had suffered under the Confederacy's rule, and these martyrs, roused to action by their common pain, had flocked to his said.

Only then, as the first vestiges of power fell into his hands, had he begun to understand: his purpose was not to erase the Confederacy, but to make it his. And at last he had succeeded.

He could see the people now – well, not the people themselves, of course, but the tall spires that marked the city where he knew the people to be. They were watching the telescreens in the squares and plazas, their necks craned upwards as they watched the monster plummet towards their world, and all the while Mengsk watched the buildings on his own telescreen as they grew larger and closer.

There was a muffled sound from the corner of the bridge. He turned in his chair, catching one of the helmsmen just as the officer finished intoning some soft transmission into his receiver. Mengsk tapped loudly on the corner of the man's chair, and motioned to him to switch on the speakers. The helmsman did so.

"Hello, this is Arcturus Mengsk. Who is this?"

There was silence for a moment, and then the sound of mechanic crackling as the voice on the other end sputtered to life.

"Good afternoon, Mister Mengsk. This is Therese Lanaghan. I'm the Magistrate in charge of this planet."

"Ah, it's a pleasure to speak with you, Therese. I simply cannot wait to meet you in person."

"Likewise, Mister Mengsk. We've got some minor resistance down here, but nothing extensive. We're all ready to turn Korhal over to you."

"That's good news, Magistrate. I was concerned my arrival might not be all that welcome here."

"Nonsense, sir. A lot of us are old enough to remember what happened to your family, and I don't think there's a soul here who honestly misses the Confederacy. Not after all they've done to us, that's for sure."

"Then the news is out?"

"Not officially. All information about the state of things on Tarsonis is being kept classified until you've been fully instated, with the severest penalty hanging over anyone who leaks. That said, pretty much everyone in Augustgrad has heard about the Confederacy's downfall. Doesn't seem to have hit anyone as particularly hard news, either."

"That's good to hear. Listen, Therese, I'm being notified that we're nearing platform and I'll need to cut off the radios before we land. I'll see you on the surface."

"Affirmative, we've got you on radar. I look forward to meeting you, Mister Mengsk." There was a click, and the line machinery hummed and crackled to a near-silence.

--

The battlecruiser fell between the spired structures of the sprawling city, gliding towards the landing platform like an avenging angel born on wings of destiny. At last it shuddered to a halt on the platform, its systems one by one powering down in relief. The flight through the desert skies had no doubt been taxing on the ships, which were not built so well for atmospheric travel as they were for space, but for the men on board, the true crucible still awaited.

"Let's do this," said Mengsk, rising from his seat. The helmsman nodded, punching a button.

--

Beneath the wings of the massive ship, a throng had already gathered, waiting to receive their returning hero. There was a hiss, and a long ramp lowered itself from the cruiser's belly, accompanied by scattered cheering.

Arcturus Mengsk, Emperor-to-be, walked to the end of the ramp and put his foot down on the dusty ground of the platform. The fate of the galaxy reeled.

--

_End of Chapter One_

--


	2. Two

**Imperium** by Forever Jake

_Chapter Two_

--

_Like so many cattle_, Mengsk thought. He took another step forward, his boots crunching on the dust that covered the landing pad as the helmsman and the rest of the crew filed out behind him. The crowd pressed in, constricting his movement. He could hear their unintelligible yelling rising like an animal cry over the square.

A bead of sweat was forming on his forehead; he raised an arm to wipe it, forcing himself to blink as the shadow crossed over his eyes. The combined heat of the desert city, the afternoon sunlight and the mass of bodies made his head swim. He wanted to turn and run, flee into the dark, cool depths of his space ship and fly away from this miserable planet forever.

But he had trained himself too well for that. This was the world whose death had given him his grand crusade; these were the people on whose behalf he had set out to topple an empire and make it his own. Without them, he had no base, no foundation.

And Arcturus Mengsk always knew how to play a crowd.

He flashed a smile up at those who floated by on news ships, his perfect white teeth reflecting the twin blinding suns up into the cameras. He waved his arm in welcome, and the crowd cheered.

The cheer was as he had first heard it – quite a lot like cattle mooing in deference as they spotted the farmer crossing the field. He might be out to kill them, cut them up into little pieces and sell them to meatpacking factories to be processed into millions of identical, unrecognizable bits of pulp; but then, so were all the other farmers. They needed _some_one to tell them where to line up. They _wanted_ to be led.

What a miracle it was, then, that Arcturus Mengsk wanted to lead them.

There was a glint of light as the crowd shifted noticeably; they were parting to form a thin aisle, down which a middle-aged woman – presumably the Magistrate, Therese something – was rapidly moving, accompanied by a pair of blue-clad guards.

Mengsk smiled again, and stepped forward into a brisk walk and a smooth, outstretched hand. He barely paused to let the woman grab and shake the appendage before they were off at a near-jog down the long gap. The impossibly thick wall of humans stretched across the square from the landing pad to the nearest of the tall, spired structures he had spotted during their descent. They made for this building, crewmen and bodyguards in tow.

They had crossed the landing strip and stepped out into the main square before he realized that the woman was talking. He promptly began listening.

"... news crew ready for you in the council room. Still some Confederate resistance holed up in the lower levels of the palace, but security's more or less got them cornered – you'll be quite safe, Mister Mengsk. Soon as your people get situated, my aides and I are all ready for the handover. Which reminds me – have you chosen your title? Just what kind of position are you giving yourself, Mister Mengsk? Governor? President? Premier?"

"Emperor." The woman half paused where she was walking; she certainly not expected _that_. Mengsk continued at his full pace, however, and she was forced to swallow her surprise and increase her pace to keep up.

"_Emperor_, eh? Very well, very well... just how much is our empire–"

"Dominion."

"Just how much is this _Dominion_ going to encompass, Emperor Mengsk?" Now it was his turn to stop. He did so very quickly, and the poor woman nearly plowed into him. He would be glad later that she hadn't; it would have been such awful publicity.

"Humanity, Magistrate."

She stopped where she stood, oblivious to the rows of men and woman brushing past her as they followed her glorious ruler-to-be into the palace. It presently occurred to her that things wouldn't ever be quite the same, now that Mister – er, _Emperor_ Mengsk was here.

Mengsk didn't care that his answer had stupefied her; she could stand in that square, dumbfounded, until the planet was consumed by its own sun for all her existence influenced his future. He was Emperor Arcturus Mengsk the first, master of an entire galaxy, sovereign ruler of all humanity.

He had quite a bit of business to attend to.

--

The interior of the palace was surprisingly quiet, given the deafening noise of the mob outside. Mengsk stood, pointed, in the center of the broad marble floor in what he was going to make his throne room. An elaborate and beautifully carved seat had been brought up out of storage (some past Magistrate had had it commissioned for his use, and his successors had apparently found it too gaudy), and this the Emperor had placed near the rear of the room, where cameras could zoom out far enough to capture both the throne and the rows of breathtaking windows on either side, through which the last beams of sunlight before dusk were desperately streaming.

"Right. We're ready, your Highness."

He turned. The Magistrate, whatever her name was, had collected herself and was standing in some sort of formal robe before the row of cameramen. Mengsk had found an old General's uniform – which, with its accompanying cape, he found suitably regal – and these he had donned in preparation for the film.

He smiled his wolfish smile and crossed towards her. The small red lights on each the camera blinked on.

With one arm, she held out a broad, flat scepter. He did not know or care for the object's significance; but protocol was protocol. He accepted it quickly and graciously.

"Emperor Arcturus Mengsk I," she announced.

He stepped away from her, then, and dropped his arm (and the ridiculous scepter) to his side. It was not important, anyway, and he wanted the viewers' eyes to be on _him_.

The cameras following him, he approached the massive white throne at the rear of the room. As he walked, slowly, coolly, with calculated speed and determination, he spoke.

"Fellow Terrans," he began, "I come to you in the wake of recent events to issue you a call to reason. Let no human deny the perils of our time. While we battle one another, divided by the petty strife of our common history, the tide of a greater conflict is turning against us, threatening to destroy all that we have accomplished."

He paused, still a few feet from the throne, and turned to face the cameras full-on. "It is time," he said, his voice low and commanding, "for us as nations and as individuals to set aside our long-standing feuds and unite."

He could almost feel a live, electrical current running through the very air in the room. He surged on through the speech, unstoppable, an Ultralisk in a sea of Zerglings.

"The tides of an unwinnable war are upon us and we must seek refuge upon higher ground lest we be swept away by the flood. The Confederacy is no more. Whatever semblance of unity and protection it once provided is a phantom - a memory. With our enemies left unchecked, whom will you turn to for protection?"

The world, the universe belonged to him... all he had to do was ask. His voice rose higher and higher in energy and volume as he climbed, rung by rung, into his subjects' hearts.

"The devastation wrought by the alien invaders is self-evident. We have seen our homes and communities destroyed by the calculated blows of the Protoss. We have seen first-hand our friends and loved ones consumed by the nightmarish Zerg. Unprecedented and unimaginable though they may be, these are the signs of our time."

He stepped backwards, raised his foot, and climbed only half-sideways up the steps at the base of the throne.

"The time has come, my fellow Terrans, to rally to a new era. In unity relies strength. Already many of the disembodied factions have joined us."

His heart was racing. He sat; he could practically feel the cameras zooming in on his features, swallowing his every word like so much candy.

"Out of the many, we shall forge an indivisible home consisting only of a single throne... and from that throne..."

He swallowed, his eyes narrowing in conviction.

"... _I_ shall watch over you."

He thought he heard a sigh, then – a gasp of air escaping the lungs of one of the cameramen, or perhaps the former Magistrate herself. It was the dying breath of the old order – the final end of the Confederacy. The future – their future – was now his.

"From this day forward," he breathed, "let no human make war upon any other human. Let no Terran agency conspire against this new beginning, and let no human consort

with alien powers." His voice rose to towering crescendo as he neared the end.

"And to all the enemies of humanity – seek not to bar our way, for we shall win through – _no matter the cost_."

He let out his breath then, collapsing into the chair. The little red lights on the cameras winked off, one by one. There was a long moment of silence as he sat in his throne, taking in the nearest portion of his new Dominion. Finally, presently, he spoke again.

"There," he said, smiling contentedly. "We have begun."

--

_End of Chapter Two_

--


	3. Three

**Imperium** by Forever Jake

_Chapter Three_

--

"You have the Umojan Hegemon ready on telescreen, Highness," said the girl with the headset. Mengsk nodded in brief acknowledgement and sat in front of the screen.

"Go," he said. The screen blinked on.

They were in the Command Room, as the old Magistrate referred to it – a broad, circular chamber in the heart of the palace filled with every kind of computer and video monitor imaginable. Though he hadn't yet ask the aides to demonstrate, he was half convinced he could run his entire Dominion from this room. True or not, the thought gave him great pleasure.

The screen directly in front of his chair was now filled with the overlarge features of the premier of the Umojan Protectorate, a man Mengsk knew as Donovan Korovsky. The two politicians went back as far as the early days of the original Korhal rebellion, when he had been forced into hiding from Confederate enforcers. Then it had been Korovsky, at the time a lowly Umojan councilor, who had urged his government to offer asylum to his friend. Now it would be Mengsk extending his own protective hand.

"Arcturus, old friend," the face in the telescreen warmly intoned. _The years have not been kind to him_, Mengsk thought. _His hair is almost completely white. One advantage to being bald, I suppose_. "It is good to see you alive and well. The rumors are true, then? The Confederacy's fall had to do with you?"

"I am far from responsible for the toppling of the Confederacy, Donovan," he assured his friend. "You can thank the Zerg for that – not that it matters. What matters now is unifying all of our varying Terran factions before the alien threat destroys us as well."

"You are right, of course, my friend," the image of Korovsky said. "But my government is wary of overextending itself. We fear that if we ally ourselves with Korhal, we will make ourselves a more obvious target for the Zerg and Protoss."

"You are Terran, Donovan, the same as I am. That in itself is enough to make you a target. If Umoja stands alone, she will fight valiantly – and perish valiantly. Together, we stand a chance against the Swarms and the Protoss fleets. An allied Terran armada would be a powerful force, capable of holding the aliens at bay."

There was a pause. Korovsky was skeptical, of course, but if he could be hooked...

"Have you already spoken with Moria?"

"The Combine's board of directors are actually waiting right on the other channel. As soon as you and I are through–"

"We are through, Emperor Mengsk." Korovsky stiffened visibly. "The Umojan Protectorate cannot promise the support of its troops and starships unless those of the Kel-Morian Combine will also agree. Speak with their directors and call on me again. I shall wait for you."

"Thank you, old friend." Korovsky's face vanished as the screen went blank. Mengsk sighed and stood up. "Any response from Moria yet?" he asked the girl with the headset. She shook her head.

"Not yet. Wait... Just got 'em. Combine board of directors, channel six."

"Put 'em on."

He sat back down in his chair. The picture on the screen returned abruptly. There were eight figures this time, clustered around an impressive wood table in some sort of meeting room. One of them cleared his throat.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Mengsk began.

"Good evening, Emperor Mengsk," replied the man who had made the noise. "I'm Jarren Herk. I'm the senior chairman for this board, and I'll be speaking for us all today."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister Herk. As you all know, the shadows cast by the oppressive Confederacy are no more. We are at a crossroads; the doorway of a new age of freedom and unity is upon us, and–"

"Sorry to interrupt, your Majesty, but I'd prefer if we cut all the doorway-of-a-new-age bullshit and got down to business."

Mengsk swallowed. "That's fine."

"As you have said, the Confederacy is gone. Unfortunately, _Emperor_ Mengsk, some of our stockholders are expressing some concern that your new 'Dominion' might prove just as oppressive as the Confederacy you're replacing."

"I thought they might. Tell your stockholders they have nothing to fear from me, and that they are welcome to take their concerns up with me one-on-one. As for the Confederacy, their absence in this sector means we're all going to have to start cracking down somewhat if we plan to stay alive."

"That's right. While the end of the Confederacy means lighter restrictions for those of us that operate outside the Confederates' idea of the law, it also means the loss of a considerable amount of protection. Let's face it, the Confederacy was very much the military power in the sector."

"Sadly true. Which is why I am prepared to offer full protection–"

"With what, Emperor? I'm sorry to be so blunt, but your forces you seem so eager to offer us can't possibly match the defenses of the Confederacy's that the Zerg have already destroyed. If the full might of the Confederate fleets couldn't stop the aliens, what the hell do you think you'll be able to do?"

The Emperor smiled then. For a moment he had thought they'd have gotten away, but now he had them.

"Gentlemen," Mengsk began, "allow me to show you something." He turned to the girl with the headset. "Queue up the schematics," he said. She complied; a second later, the screen behind him blinked on. "Can you all make that out?" he asked the Morians.

"It looks like some kind of blueprint," said Herk. "What is it?"

"My agents discovered these schematics just before the evacuation of Mar Sara. The device, we came to realize, was something long rumored to have existed, but never found – a psi emitter."

"Oh, for God's sake!" exclaimed the chairman skeptically. "The psi emitter? Everybody knows that thing isn't real!"

"On the contrary, Mister Herk. It is very real. I've built them; _used_ them, even." He paused. _I used them to lure the Zerg to Antiga and Tarsonis_, he thought. He felt no guilt – the emitters, like anything else, had been the means to a worthwhile end. Morality was for philosophers, and Mengsk was not a philosopher. All the same, he decided, it probably wasn't the best idea to go around implicating himself in the Confederacy's fall just yet.

"What do they do?" asked a man on the other end who had not yet spoken.

"Why don't you answer that one, Mister Herk? Imagine for a moment that one really could build and use a psi emitter. What might happen?"

There was another long pause. Herk seemed uncertain; intimidated, almost. He swallowed and stammered out a brief response.

"W-well, the rumors about the psi emitter always said that it broadcast psionic signals, like the kind our g-ghost agents use."

"Right. And what might a truly massive signal be able to cause?"

"A m-massive signal? Well, I guess ghosts could use it for whatever training they go through–"

"You're not think about this the right way, Mister Herk. Anyone else have any idea?" He paused, his eyes scanning the assembled men. No one said a word. "I suppose I'll have to explain, then," he said, smiling.

"Zerg broods, we've discovered, use psionic emanations to communicate with one another, the same sorts of emanations that grant ghosts their abilities."

"Yea? So?"

"_So_, if this massive psionic signal were to go off... it would get their attention. The emitters we built are capable of a psionic broadcast strong enough to destroy a ghost's mind, if it were focused right on them. Unfocused, the device beams the signal out into space, where it's heard by pretty much every Zerg on this side of the galaxy."

"How do they respond?" asked the man who had spoken out before.

"Like sharks to blood in the water. Swarms of Zerg descend on the emitter within days." He stopped for a moment to let the image sink in, and then went on. "Suppose we activate an emitter near the Protoss fleets. Bingo, the Zerg are attacking the Protoss! We can force our enemies to pit themselves against one another, over and over, until nothing survives."

"It's not possible," someone whispered.

"Oh, but it is. I've tested it. The signal runs on a timer, too; expires after a few days' time. No worries about agitating the Swarm once it's arrived. Lure it to the Protoss, and back off – wait for the sparks to fly. All too easy."

There was silence, then. Mengsk let it go on. They were digesting what he had told them, processing it. One by one they began to nod to themselves, so subtly they probably didn't even realize they were doing so.

But he noticed. He noticed, and he smiled.

--

_All too easy_. Those were the words he had used. Too easy to throw all the aliens together into massive conflict, too easy to sit and wait and build up strength while they annihilate one another – and too easy to dupe Kel-Morian investors into signing away their ships and soldiers and money to one Emperor's dreams of Dominion and conquest.

Mengsk walked along the winding balcony as it bent along the irregular surfaces of the palace. A thin, nearly-invisible layer of transpara-steel girded the outside of the balcony, protecting him from the heat of the night and the vengeful fire of would-be assassins alike.

He had been here, once, years ago. His father had been the Magistrate, then, at a time when such positions had actually meant something. Arcturus had gone to visit the man who ruled Korhal with benevolent vision, the man who preached to the populace about the injustices of the Confederacy's policies and rallied for peaceful secession.

Arcturus had gone to talk his father out of his mad plans, to convince him to just play along and let the Confederacy make the rules. The two had come here, to the highest balcony, and looked out over the darkened city while the argued politics and morality. The next day, the son had left the planet bitter and frustrated, unable to win his father over.

It was the last time the two would ever speak.

Three days later, Magistrate Augustus Mengsk, his wife and his two daughters were dead, assassinated by Confederate 'peacekeepers'. The corpses were suspended from the balcony for a week while birds and insects came to assault and desecrate the bodies. A warning had been given – the Confederacy would not tolerate the kinds of things Arcturus' father had been so keen on saying.

The warning didn't stick. Talk of secession continued, even spread. This time, there were no more words of peaceful independence. The plan had become open, bloody rebellion. Korhal's sons would fight for the freedom of their planet, and if necessary, die for that freedom. It all sounded brave and inspiring in the planning.

It was not to be. There would be no fighting for Korhal – only dying.

One thousand tactical nuclear warheads struck the surface of Korhal, decimating the cities and turning the lush landscape into a broken desert. Months later, as the radiation levels normalized, people would begin to return and re-colonize – but the deed had been done.

The Confederacy was a corrupt, oppressive government that utilized secret armies of shock troops and potent space and planetary weapons to keep their terrified citizens in check. Arcturus and his supporters were bringing about a new age of human freedom and unity to replace the decades of strife and dissention that had so long gripped the sector. They were fulfilling prophecy, doing good work… weren't they?

"_Some of our stockholders are expressing some concern that your new 'Dominion' might prove just as oppressive as the Confederacy you're replacing."_ That was what the chairman fellow had said. Concern that he would become the monster he had vanquished? He, Arcturus Mengsk, great protector of humanity… couldn't possibly be…

He paused where he had been walking, idly scratching the back of his head with a weary hand. His cool, dark eyes flickered around, focusing on nothing.

He blinked.

He had been on the tip of something, there – some great epiphany of the sort one comes to while walking alone in the middle of the night. It was no use, though. It was gone now, just as all such things disappear if not nailed down immediately. He shrugged. It didn't matter.

There was a door on the side of the building, a few feet up the catwalk. He decided it was time he went to bed. He yawned and began to shuffle slowly towards the entrance.

He paused. He had seen something, there…

He turned around sharply, his eyes at once alert and predatorial. What was it? Something out there, in the city perhaps, had snagged his attention, some element of the night striking wrong his seasoned observational sense. He looked and looked, his breath hesitating in his throat as he scanned the nightscape.

There!

Up, up, up above the horizon of streetlit buildings, there had been a tiny flash of light. He waited, staring at the section of sky, the whole of his being focused on the spot where he had seen the flash.

Then there was another. And another.

Down below, though he could not see them, people on the street were stopping, pointing. Falling stars? A meteor shower? Some sort of fireworks display? Up on the balcony, all alone, Arcturus Mengsk knew better.

Korhal was under attack.

--

_End of Chapter Three_

--


	4. Four

**Imperium** by Forever Jake

_Chapter Four_

--

_One hour earlier_...

High above the swirling skies of the desert planet, the battlecruiser _Norad III_ hovered ominously. It was a small ship, at least comparatively – smaller than most of the behemoth craft that served as flagships and carriers for the fleet. It was far shorter from head to tail than a normal battlecruiser, and its rear half was prodigally tiny; the _Norad_'s creators had wasted no time on heavy weaponry or engine power.

The head of the vessel, by contrast, was squat and elongated, and easily dwarfed all other regions of the ship. Almost all of the head was devoted to the bridge, as well – an abnormal number of wide port-windows dotted the exterior of the ship in that area, offering a view of the surrounding space to the men and women who staffed the various interior compartments.

_Norad III_ was a command ship, in every sense of the word. It existed to direct battles, even wars – not fight them itself.

General Duke was very proud of his vessel. Its predecessor, the _Norad II_, had served him well, but had taken severe damage in battle against the Zerg in recent weeks and even crashed temporarily on the surface of some forgotten moon. It had been repaired and fully serviced, of course, and he'd continued to use it through the end of Mengsk's campaign against Tarsonis – but it just wasn't quite what he'd needed. So he'd had it decommissioned.

This ship, though – it made him giddy just thinking of it.

The crash of the _Norad II_ had been a wake-up call for Duke. Being in direct danger, not knowing if he would survive or even if he would be found – living at the mercy of the ravenous Zerg, and then at the mercy of the ruthlessly political Mengsk and his rescue team – it had all been so frightening, so disturbing. A general wasn't meant to sit there, helpless, like some common soldier! He was supposed to lead, to direct the battle from behind the scenes.

With that in mind, he had scouted the Terran fleets for a suitable replacement. At last, from the ranks of the enigmatic Nova Squadron (formerly Tarsonis' and now Mengsk's intelligence and tactical arm) had it emerged: a smaller, less easily targeted vessel, small enough to be missed among other capital ships and too slow-moving to be mistaken for a rogue fighter. Most impressively, however, it blended perfectly into the background of space, for it had been coated in nothing but the sleekest black paint.

Duke had commandeered the vessel at once; it was perfectly suited to his purposes. Thus had the master of the new Dominion's fleets come to possess his new flagship.

A newer, better ship didn't do much to stop aliens from attacking, though. And now they had come to test him.

Duke paced across the deck of the ship, battle sequences and maneuvers running through his head at warp speed and shooting from his mouth even faster as veteran helmsmen and under-commanders struggled to keep up and relay his orders to the other flagships, who in turn would direct the individual fighter groups. The enemy was still around on the day-side of the planet, above the uninhabited wasteland region; only the outlying portions of the fleet had engaged, although reinforcements from the main fleet above Augustgrad were already moving to assist the defenders. If Duke played his hand quickly and skillfully, the invasion could be stopped before it reached the surface, sparing ground forces the challenge of dealing with them.

The front-line report had described the attackers as Zerg, but backup had yet to verify. Duke was fairly certain that he knew what to expect from a Zerg offensive: lighter but broader attacks at first, which would quickly evolve into much heavier waves focused at more particular locations. The fleet had a limited time before the main assault came; he had to ensure that the defensive lines were in place before then.

"Bring in the faster groups first; wraiths and valkyries. They'll be able to fly circles around the enemy until the slower, heavier groups arrive. Stagger the support as well – we don't want the Zerg to see everything we've got up front. Leave some at the back of the line to surprise them. And for God's sake, keep those frigates and battlecruisers covered! We can't chance losing many of the larger ships before the bulk of the opposition arrives."

"Sir, are you sure about sending in the valkyrie groups so quickly? They're only experimental, and we've a very limited supply–"

"So be sure to back them up! They're fast, Captain, and that should be enough to keep them safe for now – and the firepower on them is incredible. I promise we'll have time to make more of 'em after the battle."

"Sir, yes sir!"

--

The warp-space was alive with Thoth. Through the blinding tunnels of light he radiated, pure, infinite, undeniable. He was surreal, yet impossible to dismiss as fancy or delusion. He did not speak, did not appear; was neither visible nor hidden. He simply was.

The Cerebrates of the Zerg Overmind needed no names; yet names they had, and Thoth was what this one called himself. He was not even a he, yet he was far too intelligent, far too powerful to be an _it_. So _he_ was Thoth.

Thoth reached out with his mind through the uncountable masses of his brood, whose very numbers approached infinity. He saw what they saw; complex and discolored images received and compiled through a myriad of eyes, antennae and peripheral detectors. All the input, the sensory notations, the rush of information, flooded through his underlings' nerves and brains and fed back to him, showing him whatever he wished to see.

Right now, there was a tiny desert world he wanted to see. It orbited an ancient star and sported a small Terran civilization; this last attribute was more than enough to make it a target. Thoth focused on the world, and a collage of visions and sounds appeared to him.

The first scouts had reached the Korhal system; this pleased Thoth. The remaining Zerg would begin to appear within the hour as they emerged from the warp, and by the millions and billions they would descend upon the unsuspecting world, obliterating its naïve human inhabitants like they had those of every other Terran world.

Chau Sara... Mar Sara... Antiga... Tarsonis... not all had fallen to Thoth's brood, but all had fallen to the Swarm. The Zerg race had come for humanity, and humanity, one world at a time, had crumbled before its destructive touch. Now Thoth and his brood had come for this world, at last. Like those before it and those that would surely follow after, Korhal would crumble and burn.

--

The first wraiths screamed through empty space, the flashes of lasers and biological explosions growing larger in their windows.

"Alright boys," the squad leader was saying. "Tighten up those masks and goggles, we're in for some huntin'." His wraith pulled ahead towards the battle.

As they neared the front, they could see the signs of conflict marking where the fighting had begun: twisted scraps of metal floating where surprised, dormant wraiths had waited, stringy pieces of skin and muscle that had all too recently been living, breathing mutalisks, and here and there, little globules of blood and acid floating by like tiny, darkened stars, all but invisible against the backdrop of the setting sun on the far side of Korhal.

"Damn, looks like these critters caught us with our pants down," came the leader's voice again. "Alright, keep your eyes open for friends and foes. Shoot to kill, and keep moving. We don't need any more casualties out here before the big guns arrive."

"Over there!" came a reply from one of the pilots. "Three muties, looks like they've already seen some fire. Chasing some kind of ship; might be a wraith."

"Alright, boys. Let's go get 'em!"

--

Laser-fire and guided missiles found flesh and bone, and acid burned its way into steel amid animal screams. The Battle of Korhal had begun.

--

_End of Chapter Four_

--


	5. Five

**Imperium** by Forever Jake

_Chapter Five_

--

"The first of the heavy support groups are arriving now, General."

"Good! How are the smaller ships faring?"

"Minimal losses, sir. They seem to be coping well against the thickening enemy forces."

"Alright, have the newly arriving firepower form a perimeter around the most probably descent vectors. I don't want anything getting through to the surface."

"Pull the lighter forces back as well?"

"Only a little; let the wraiths and valkyries keep flying circles. I want them ready to take out any more mutalisks that come out of warp so the larger ships are free to fire on the overlords and guardians."

"Good, sir."

"About how many unfriendlies have come out of warp so far, Captain?"

"115, sir – about 80 of ours already in-position."

"Just keep reinforcing those descent vectors. Things are going to get heavy soon."

--

Thoth had a clear image now of the space over Korhal; he could see the swarming Terran ships as they scattered and swirled, thinking themselves brilliant in their artificial chaos. They performed the same pseudo-random maneuvers over and over and over until they were no long arbitrary; merely without direction. The human commanders no doubt presumed their walls of careening fighters would block the Zerg from penetrating to the surface, but they were fools. They would see what true chaos meant.

Thoth focused in on the larger Terran vessels, the battlecruisers and missile frigates that waited behind the screen of wraith fighters. The command ships seemed to be stationary, idle... as undirected as the rapidly flailing squadrons of smaller ships. They were the weak points here. They were where Thoth's agents would strike hardest.

Without a mouth, or eyes, or any sort of bodily expression of any kind – without even a body in the traditional sense – Thoth smiled. It was all so easy.

--

On the deck of a battlecruiser called _Protector_, a helmsman sat in his chair, his fingers and eyes anchored on his computer monitor. The screen of smaller fighters, his instruments told him, seemed to be working rather well; thus far, none of the Zerg's haphazard mutalisks raids had been able to punch through. Back behind the wall, though, stuck on the bridge of an untapped battleship, 'standing by', the helmsman was getting bored.

"Update on enemy presence," came a voice from his computer; one of the commanders from the _Norad III_.

"Little change," the helmsman replied, yawning. "Roughly 170 units on radar, 96 of what we've got. Most of 'em are holding back now, they've figured out not to try the screen." There was a pause, doubtless as the man on the other end relayed the useless information to his superiors.

After a brief moment, the computer fizzled to life again. It was not the same voice that spoke to him this time, however.

"This is General Duke. Would you repeat that information?"

"Uh, yes, General. Zerg population has grown to roughly 170, mostly mutalisks and the odd overlord, versus our 118 fighters and 60 capitals. They've stopped sending fodder into our screen and seem to be holding back, out of range."

"Helmsman, are your weapons systems online?"

"We've been keeping them on standby, sir, to conserve energy."

"Well power them up to full working level, and do it fast. Relay that order to the other command ships as well."

"Yes, General. Um, General, might I ask what for? The Zerg are keeping out of range, we'd have to move closer to engage them."

"Just follow orders, helmsman, and if you survive you'll be debriefed following the battle." The sound fizzled away again; Duke had left the computer. The helmsman's fingers moved lazily over the keys, activating the _Protector_'s weapons systems and duplicating the order for the rest of the heavy support.

_Futile, isn't it?_ he caught himself wondering. _They're still too far out of range. What's the use in bringing the weapons systems up already? There's nothing to shoot at. _He shook his head as he finished queuing up the laser batteries in the rear of the ship.

--

On the other side of the planet, on the bridge of the _Norad III_, Duke was pacing again.

"How many of our support capitals are in place?"

"Still four of the ten groups in transit, sir – forty more ships, in all. 60 support and a little over a hundred fighters in place."

_Not enough,_ he though. _It's too late. They're just not getting there fast enough..._

"Sir! The enemy numbers coming out of warp just spiked – they've got over one thousand units now!"

"We're outnumbered at least nine, ten to one, then. Alright, this is it – order all ships stand by to engage."

"But sir – we haven't a chance!"

"We also haven't a choice," Duke whispered. The commander's face was pale. "Make the order."

--

The helmsman fell out of his chair.

Over eight hundred new Zerg arrivals had just emerged from warp, and more were still coming, feeding immediately into the churning mass that sat just outside the wraith screen. There had to be close to three hundred of them now, waiting, watching.

The voice from the computer was shouting something, but he couldn't make it out. It sounded urgent, frightened. But the helmsman, down on the floor, couldn't move to pick up the receiver. He just kept staring, his eyes glued to the radar report on the screen as the numbers of Zerg kept rising up, up, up.

--

Thoth roared through the minds of his endless warriors. They sat there, a mere thousand or so bodies, tiny next to the millions and billions of servants at his command; yet they were frightening, terrifying, to the paltry humans that buzzed like flies above the doomed world of Korhal. The Zerg forces moved together in a great sphere, a single mind, a single entity.

Then they moved.

All at once, a single great order moved like lightning through the mind of each individual mutalisk, overlord, guardian and scourge. Bound like molecules in a giant bullet against the scattered Terran defenses they surged... down, down, down towards the surface of the world.

--

A bowling ball falling through a glass table would have been comparable to the Zerg against the Terran defense.

The Zerg crashed through the screen of wraiths and valkyries, and even as the mesh of tiny fighters contracted against the enemy force, the aliens penetrated further, further, further in past the broken wall.

--

_End of Chapter Five_

--


	6. Six

**Imperium** by Forever Jake

_Chapter Six_

--

"Get me General Duke immediately!"

Mengsk swore under his breath as the young man in the white jacket ran off around the corner of the office in pursuit of the General's contact number. He was furious. The battle far overhead had apparently been going on for some time (at least an hour, by the estimate of the young woman cadet he had just finished speaking with), and Duke had not reported in. A whole hour of warfare that perhaps was deciding the very fate of the planet Korhal, and the Emperor's hand-picked commander-in-chief could not even spare a few moments to relay the status of the defenders to the palace below?

That was unacceptable. Mengsk would have to share a few choice words with the General upon his return to the surface.

Something was vibrating against his leg; he looked down at his side, curious. He realized he was still in his robe, having not bothered to change after his hastily ended walk along the palace balcony. This irritated him as well; it was still too soon since his coronation, and not everyone knew how seriously to take him yet. It would not do for strangers to see the Emperor loafing about in a bathrobe and slippers. He made a mental note to change into something more authoritative as soon as he succeeded in reaching Duke.

And what _was_ that infernal vibration?

He reached down into his pockets. There, at the bottom of a long chamber that ended conveniently at the top of his left thigh, his fingers closed around a small mechanical device; he pulled it out and examined it.

Oh. His telecomm. He'd deactivated it earlier, when he'd wanted to be alone – or at least he thought he had. He hated the little contraption with a passion, and in an obvious effort to further infuriate him it had simply switched to some sort of 'silent' mode rather than shut off completely. Now it buzzed mutedly again in his hand, a sarcastic alternative to its usual high-pitched chirp.

Sighing in frustration, he brought the thing up to his ear and pressed a button. A familiar lady's voice began to assault his ears, high and loud.

"Later, Therese," he said into the voice-piece, and he shut the little device off again. He had enough to make him angry without that inane woman bothering him about her trivial worries.

The young man in the white jacket had returned, and Mengsk turned slightly to face him as he deposited the loathsome telecomm back in the pocket of his robe; he would be sure to leave the thing behind in his quarters with the robe when he changed.

"I've found a number for Duke, sir," the man in the white jacket said, offering a scrap of yellow paper. It appeared to bear a string of digits scrawled in black ink. Mengsk took it.

His first night as Emperor of this wretched world was turning out wonderfully indeed.

--

"He wants _what!_" yelled Duke above the noise of the bridge. Behind him, rows of datascreens displayed graphical representations of the Terran and Zerg fleets as they battled on the far side of the planet.

"Status report," one the commanders repeated.

"Why that little turd! Bothering me with his nonsense at a time like this... doesn't he know we're in the middle of a battle up here!"

"I can tell him, sir..."

"Just gimme the damn comm." The device was procured, and the General switched it on in annoyance. "What," he barked into the receiver.

"General Duke," came Mengsk's drawling response. "What is the status of our defenses? How well are we succeeding in keeping the aliens at bay?"

_As though he would understand any of the figures or descriptions I could give him_, Duke thought_. He just likes being able to say he was 'in touch with the General during the height of the conflict'. Miserable little toad._

"We're doing fine, Arcturus." Duke could almost feel the Emperor cringe at the use of his first name.

"How are our defenses holding, General?"

"They're just dandy. Would you like to come up to the ship for tea and biscuits and see for yourself what's going on, or do you want to let me get back to my job and maybe save this rock from the Zerg?"

On the other end, Mengsk forced a laugh; it was hoarse and clearly un-bemused. "I leave Korhal in your capable hands," he said, and then there was a click as he switched off.

"Damn right you do," Duke mumbled to himself as he turned back to the datascreens. His eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at. "Oh, _shit_."

--

"What are we supposed to do?" the helmsman of the _Protector_ asked for the seventh time. The screens showed the desolation; 68 of the Terran fleet had been destroyed, and though the Zerg had felt comparable losses their forces continued to surge into – and through – the defenders' blockade.

"Just keep firing," somebody said. "It's all we can do."

The helmsman looked up from the screens, out through the broad port-window into the acid- and laser-drenched black sea of space. It was madness; ships and Zerg creatures alike careened out of control through the chaos, firing their weapons randomly. Some died by friendly fire, others by lucky shots on the part of the enemy, and others still by unavoidable collisions with others of either side. By sheer attrition, the Terran vanguard was dwindling away, the tides of Zerg invaders effectively unchecked.

A tear rolled down the man's cheek. He raised a sweaty palm to his chest, where, underneath his uniform, he remembered he had long ago hung a simple metal cross.

--

Screaming, choking, a Zerg mutalisk fell through the cosmos, its bloody stump of a wing doing little to adjust its course. Presently, its path was ended as it slammed into a wall of glass and metal and screamed no more.

Flames and explosions rocked the bridge of the _Protector_ as the acid from the creature's maw seeped through the computers and other equipment. On General Duke's telescreens, another green dot – a Terran capital ship – winked out of existence.

--

_End of Chapter Six_

--

**_A/N to SmurfKiller:_**

_Thank you very much for your extensive comments – it is not often that a writer receives such feedback, especially so quickly!_

_Thanks first for the correction of Mengsk's father's name (I didn't remember, and I assumed it was Augustus as the city is named Augustgrad in BroodWar), and thank you as well for the clarification on capitol/capital. I like to pride myself on making few spelling and grammar faux pas, but this one seems to trip me up every time. _

_About the woman (Therese) – I've made her irritating on purpose. The idea is that Mengsk finds her just as annoying as the rest of us do._

_About the coronation – The haste here, as well, was intended. The idea was that Mengsk had already orchestrated the takeover from space, not to mention that the majority of the planet had been in a state of perpetual rebellion and demonstration (tempered somewhat by sheer terror) since the assassination on Mengsk's parents so many years before._

_You asked about the setting of the story – it is set during the original StarCraft game, between the Terran and Zerg campaigns (as explained in the summary). Mengsk has just finished toppling the Confederacy (at the end of the Rebel Yell campaign), and is now returning to his homeworld to solidify his rule. The coronation speech is actually taken verbatim from the end-of-campaign cinematic in the game; go destroy the Ion Cannon and watch it again, it's cool._

_Finally, thank you for the input about the numbers of the ships, but I don't think I'm really that far off – I think 800 mutalisks and scourge could take 60 battlecruisers and accompanying wraiths without too much trouble. I'd try it in the map editor myself, but the maximum food level is 200._

_Thank you very much for your feedback! I hope you enjoy the rest!_

--


	7. Seven

**Imperium** by Forever Jake

_Chapter Seven_

--

Thoth was very pleased at the success of the attack thus far – not that he was surprised, of course, but then one could hardly expect him to be after the invasion of so many selfsame planets already, all gloriously taken in exactly the same fashion? His mind, inexorably linked to the Overmind itself, constantly reinformed him of just how excited he was to be capturing with his brood one more world for the glory of the Swarm... but deep down, he was beginning to suspect that he was in fact quite bored.

It was always the same. Seven planets had he and his children conquered from these petty humans already, and still they threw the same makeshift, helpless defense in vain hope of it finally working on this, the eighth attempt.

They might as well have held up olive branches and twigs before the surging armies of the Swarm. Thoth and his brood would not be stopped, not by a thousand tiny toy spaceships.

The endless rush had punctured the Terran shield already. The surviving ships were beginning to fall back; it was too late for them to be of any use in deterring the attack. Dozens of Overlords bound for the surface, full to bursting with drones and warriors, passed through the holes in the human fleet's defenses, holes that gaped like festering wounds, hopelessly incurable.

The battle in space was over; the humans had lost, and lost dearly. Now came the battle on the ground. Thoth awaited that victory with all the patience of an ageless demigod, weary of his aeons-long existence yet all the more resigned to the remainder of his life and work.

There was no doubt in his mind that Korhal would be his; it would fall like Tarsonis, like Antiga, like Chau Sara. He needed only watch and wait and direct... the outcome was inevitable.

--

"You _what_?"

"We failed, Emperor. Our fleet was still somewhat in disrepair after our long campaign against the Confederacy, and besides that we were outnumbered many to one. We're lucky to have salvaged any of our ships, let alone held them for this long."

Mengsk was shaking; whether in anger or fear, Duke couldn't be sure. There was something in the politician's eyes that made him suddenly appear as mad as he had sounded in all of the Confederate propaganda Duke had read. The General was certainly the elder of the two, but Mengsk's high hairline and wild expression made him look far older than he truly was. _He's every bit the addled old madman_, Duke thought to himself.

"And where were you in all of this?" The question caught Duke by surprise.

"Wh-why, I was behind, in the command ship, directing the battle," he stammered.

"I see. So while our forces were being crushed by the Zerg, you were on the other side of the planet, watching it all play out?"

"I was directing our defenses, which is a hell of a lot easier when I don't have to worry about protecting my own ship. In case you've forgotten, I've been on the front lines before, _Your Majesty_, and it wasn't pretty. I seem to recall being stranded at the mercy of the Zerg because _my ship_ was out in plain view. It's kind of hard to organize a whole fleet when you're stranded in the middle of an entire hive cluster."

"And I seem to recall saving you and your worthless ship when no one else would bother, so I'd appreciate it if you showed me some respect, General." Mengsk cleared his throat and inhaled deeply. Duke waited, silent. After a moment, the Emperor's expression softened somewhat, and he opened his mouth again. "At this moment, where do the Zerg forces seem to be headed?"

"Out into the desert, your highness. There are a lot of high-mineral zones in the northern regions, so we expect they'll try to build there to marshal their forces."

"Then that's where we'll strike, before they have a chance to regroup. I won't have this city plowed under the way our fleet was. You, General Duke, are going lead that attack; no more hanging back when you have firepower you can contribute. Take all the ships that still work from orbit and pick up any infantry or artillery you need from Augustgrad, and head out. You will alert me as soon as the Zerg presence has been removed, is that clear?"

"And if we fail, again?"

Mengsk laughed.

"Do whatever you like. If you fail, you're going die along with me and everyone else on this planet."

--

_End of Chapter Seven_

--


End file.
